Tuesday Feb 26, 2019
Steve Gill’s wife Gina is not into fighting. Not by any stretch of the imagination.
“She’s the kind of person who can’t even watch fighting on television,” Steve says, “She can’t watch a movie that has someone getting hit. We watch happy comedies all the time because we can’t watch anything else. If I’m watching Game of Thrones, she can’t even be anywhere around me or see anything.”
So to hear Steve describe what he remembers from being in the ring on November 15, 2018 is nothing if not hilariously unexpected.
“In the second round, I was bleeding. A lot. I’m a bleeder. I’d get popped in the nose with a jab and I’d just start bleeding. After getting hit a few times, I went over to the doctor at the side of the ring to get patched up. There’s blood from my nose. A cut under my eye. I’m totally fine, but just bled a lot. I couldn’t help it.”
He compares that moment to a car crash from a movie. Everything slows down. Hundreds of people scream at him from the side of the ring, but their shouts seem distant, miles away. Lights flash. The referee’s hands wave in slow motion. He sees his father, his brothers, his friends and coworkers shouting their support from a nearby table outside the ring. Steve’s mother desperately attempts to throw cloth napkins from the tabletop into the ring to stop the fight as Security gently discourages her from doing so. She ignores them, and tries to send the place-settings flying over their heads. Steve recalls feeling like he was outside of himself, barely sure of what was going on.
It was then that a blurred figure walked across the ring toward him and came into focus.
It was Gina.
“KICK HIS ASS!” she bellowed to her husband in a tone fit for one destined to one day seize and occupy the Iron Throne of Westeros.
…….
Gina is a mother, and while it might not be of dragons, anyone with two children can certainly attest to the fact that it definitely can feel that way sometimes. Their first child, Aidan, was a honeymoon baby. Steve and Gina were married in April and their son Aidan was born in February. They moved to the Jersey Shore and when Aidan was only eighteen months old, his little sister Amber came along. Managing two children under the age of two is nothing if not stressful and to add to that, Gina began having trouble breastfeeding their daughter on one side. In trying to figure out what was wrong, she discovered another problem altogether.
A tumor.
Their daughter was less than three weeks old.
“We were in total shock,” Steve recalls. “Everything that had come or was coming our way up to that point was a positive. Marriage, a new home, the kids, I was starting my MBA. All great stuff. Just upper, upper, upper. And then, like that…”
He doesn’t need to finish his thought. As someone raising two children myself, it’s hard to find words that could accurately portray the crushing weight of adding something like a cancer diagnosis to an already full load. And it wasn’t just one tumor. After a number of tests, there were revealed to be five tumors. While it may seem difficult to imagine finding the strength to confront this horrible new reality, Steve makes it clear that there was never any shortage of strength available to them.
“We both come from big families,” he explains, “not just size-wise, but support-wise. We had so much support. Gina’s friends would fly in from California to help out, because they knew how difficult it was. Her family, my family, my brothers and their wives. Everyone came to help. To not have that and go through something like this… it would have been tough. I was going to get my MBA and I remember thinking it was all too much and I considered stopping, but Gina said no. Keep going. Don’t let this get in the way of that. It will keep us busy. And she was so right. Our kids kept us busy. My school kept me busy. The busier we were, the less time there was to worry.”
“We had to keep moving forward. That was important. Imagining her not being around for landmark events and weddings down the road was one thing, but what really kept us going was more immediate. The kids growing up, five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten. There was that realization that we had to stay positive. And Gina is so positive. She has this super high energy and that’s just the way she thinks. It was so good that she has that mindset.”
.......
Despite Gina’s aversion to aggression and violence, now that she is cancer free, there wasn’t much she could say to dissuade Steve from taking on the challenge of getting in the ring to fight against cancer. The way he saw it, as someone who had been affected by cancer, how could she not understand and support Steve’s mission to make a difference? She came around to the idea of course, even appearing in the ring between rounds on fight night, walking the perimeter of the ring with the round-card before making her way over to her husband to provide him with those three shouted words of support. With Mom on board, I wondered to Steve how his children interpreted the photos their dad would show them of himself, his hair wild and his nose caked in blood.
“They didn’t really get it at first, but after showing Aidan pictures of me all bloodied, he wanted to come with me to a sparring session. It was early on a Sunday morning and I took him to the Church Street Gym. It’s a well-known gym, but no frills. High ceilings. Smells like shit. Hot as hell. Everyone is dripping in sweat and you can hear the trains rumble as they passed nearby, underground. It was wild watching him taking it all in, looking around the place. Eventually, I begin to spar. He’s watching me in there, hitting, getting hit. I could see him actually getting it, what his dad was doing.”
“Aidan’s very reserved. He’s sensitive. So for him to see me do that and to watch him get excited about it and see me do something that he had never seen me do before? I was proud. I felt like I was showing him that I could do anything. Like, who am I do decide to do this? If I could do this, then I hope he could see that he could do anything too.”
And even though Aidan is equal parts his mother and father, I’d like to think that in that moment, watching his father fight, the side of him that he got from his violence-averse mother would shine through. Not so much the part that can’t bear to watch someone throw a punch at another person, but instead the part that might bring him to whisper under his breath:
“Kick his ass, Dad.”

Written by Chris Randa

Thursday Sep 18, 2025
I grew up the middle child of a typical middle class, Boston Irish Catholic family. I was a red headed, freckle faced tomboy who just absolutely loved sports. All sports. I played every possible sport growing up and was a 3 sport Varsity athlete all 4 years of high school until I tore my ACL. I graduated from Boston College with an Art History degree in the spring of 2001. At the time my best friend had one more year at UMASS Amherst, because let’s be honest, very few of my friends were graduating from ZOOMASS in 4 years. So, instead of taking the intelligent, responsible, next step into adulthood and starting a career using my degree, my best friend and I decided we would work at the local liquor store for the summer to get a discount for ourselves and our friends and have a summer to remember. And we were right…but not in the way we expected. In late August, on a road trip to New Jersey, I found a lump in my neck. It was like the story of Jack and the bean stalk. It had just sprouted overnight. It must have. There was no way a lump that size had been there the day before, or that I hadn’t noticed something before now. There was just no way. I went to the doctor, and she quelled my anxiety by saying, if it’s still there in a week, come back. Well, in a week, it was still there. So back to the doctor I went. Blood tests all came back normal. So, I was sent for a chest X-ray. Things looked a little suspicious and they sent me for a neck biopsy. I remember post-biopsy, going home, sitting at my parent’s kitchen table, eating sushi, just like any other day. I heard the doorbell ring and I looked up to see my neighbor and longtime soccer and basketball coach, Mr. Roscia, standing at the door. He had just finished treatment for Hodgkin's Lymphoma a few months before, and right away, I knew something was wrong. He was there to tell me the news. I had been diagnosed with Stage II Hodgkin's Lymphoma. I was 22. It was September 13, 2001. 2 days later, I found out a friend of mine who graduated with me in May, went in to work at the Trade Center on September 11th and didn’t make it out. Earlier in the week pre-diagnosis I had gone to the wake for my friend's Mum who had lost her long battle with cancer… and my brain just shut down. Treatment was fairly easy for me, meaning I tolerated it well. Oftentimes I felt nauseous, was exhausted and I lost all my hair but physically, I felt OKAY. Mentally was a different story. I was easily the youngest person being treated on my chemo floor which made me feel very out of place. I wasn’t a pediatric patient, but I wasn’t exactly a full-blown adult. I remember one day, I had already lost all my hair and I was in the treatment room, getting my chemo cocktail, cracking jokes, in good spirits and across from me was an older gentleman, sitting completely alone, rail thin, and crying. That was the moment I realized how scared I was and what this disease is capable of. I finished 4 cycles of chemotherapy, took a month off of treatment to let my immune system charge back up and then finished with 6 weeks of radiation treatment. My boyfriend at the time was from New Jersey and having just received a clean bill of health I was more than ready to move on to a new chapter in my life. So, I left Boston and moved to New York City to move in with him. One day, we were walking home from work in downtown Manhattan, over the Brooklyn Bridge, and I saw a sign for Gleason’s Boxing gym. As he and I were walking, I said out loud, “oooh, I want to learn to box”. He looked at me like I had lost my mind and said, “you don’t do stuff like that”. He had never known me as an athlete, and it had been so long since sports were part of my life, I didn’t know myself as one anymore either. Very shortly after that, I signed up to run the NJ marathon in April of 2004 with Team in Training, a fundraising program which supports the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. It was my way of giving back, because I felt like I had to pay it forward. I was young, I was healthy, I was able bodied, and because, it was just the right thing to do. Shortly after running my first marathon, my college boyfriend and I broke up. So in 2005, with new found freedom, I ran another marathon and a triathlon with Team in Training. During training for my 3rd and last marathon, I began boxing as a cross training supplement…and I just fell in love. This was the sport I had been looking for my whole life. I loved both the physical and mental challenge. While I adored the fundraising aspect of my marathons and tris, I realized I absolutely, unequivocally HATED endurance events. In a quest to continue challenging myself I did what I figured was the next logical step, and started competing as an amateur boxer in New York City, while working in digital advertising for Hearst Television. I worked in the Hearst Tower on 59th and 8th, with a mix of older, stuffy TV executives and the very polished ladies of the publishing world. I was going to work in nice dresses and shoes with bruises and black eyes as accessories. I remember one day in the elevator a woman heading to the floor just above mine, she looked at me and said, “oh honey, you have some dirt on your chin.” We locked eyes and there was a split second of awkwardness when both she and I realized it wasn’t dirt, but instead, a good size bruise. I stood there, frozen, not saying anything because I didn't know what was worse; that someone wearing very expensive red soled Christian Louboutin shoes thought I would go to work with a dirty face or that maybe somebody had hit me. Thankfully, the elevator door opened and out I scurried, without a word. I didn’t know how to explain to her, someone DID hit me, but she's my friend. And in boxing, your friends punch you in the face and the ribs and wherever else they can get a legal shot in. In April of 2009, I made the finals of the New York City Golden Gloves Tournament, and had the opportunity to fight in Madison Square Garden. I remember going to MSG and just thinking of all the famous and legendary boxers who had competed not only in the tournament, but who fought in the same venue. Understandably, I was nervous, but thought, if I win or lose the fight, I am here. I made it this far. And I remembered my father telling me “always fight to win. Never fight to not lose.” I ended up winning that night. The next day in the gym, doing my victory lap, one of the old school characters was hanging around, and you meet ALL KINDS of characters in any boxing gym, especially ones in New York City, he said to me, “ANYONE can win the Golden Gloves once. You have win it twice to prove you’re something.” So, the next year, in 2010, after shoulder surgery, I entered the tournament, made the finals AND did just that, I defended my women’s 132 lb title against a one-time, Nationally ranked fighter. I guess I had something to prove. I found boxing and it changed my life. It allowed me to find my purpose. No one ever says “I was lucky to get cancer” because I wasn’t. But I was lucky to live near a city that provides world class treatment and to go on to live a healthy life allowing me to have opportunities and life experiences, enabling me to do what I do now. I have met some of the most amazing women because of boxing. These are women that have changed MY perception of what it means to be a woman. I’ve boxed alongside teachers, mothers, musicians, models, writers, accountants, pro fighters, and doctors, the list goes on... boxing is empowering. I think 2 sport professional fighter Heather Hardy said it best, “It’s ok to be strong, it’s ok to be beautiful, and it’s ok to be nasty, it’s ok to be fierce, ferocious and vicious and all those things people told us for so many years we couldn’t be”. Boxing helps women discover their self-worth, it builds confidence and shows us what we are really capable of. Cancer led me to a very dark time in my life but boxing led me out. One life experience was the chance encounter of meeting Andrew Myerson. Andrew and I met in a boxing gym, Trinity Boxing, formerly in lower Manhattan in 2008. Both Boston transplants, we quickly became friends suffering side by side, night after night, on heavy bags, and being endlessly tortured by trainers with mitt work, and all kinds of painful exercises. For us, boxing was a way to temporarily escape the everyday stress of corporate America in New York City. One night, after taking turns throwing a 100 lb heavy bag down a set of stairs JUST to carry it back up, Andrew and I started talking about boxing and fundraising. There are endless events a person can participate in to fundraise; 5ks, marathons, triathlons, stair climbs, 3 on 3 basketball tournaments. But, there was nothing that used the sport we had both fallen in love with, boxing, as the platform to fundraise. The amount of time it takes to prepare for a bout is about the same time it takes to train for a marathon. I’m sure just like many people reading this, I have donated to many friend’s fundraising efforts over the years during their marathon training to help them reach a fundraising goal in support of a non-profit that they are passionate about supporting, passionate enough to run 26.2 miles. That was the very genesis of Haymakers. Just 2 people looking to make a difference and the desire to introduce people to a sport we love. In 2011 Andrew and I founded the non-profit, Haymakers for Hope. Haymakers is a 501c3 not-for-profit that raises money for cancer research, awareness, survivorship and care through high end, white collar charity boxing events. The concept is to give normal, everyday people the opportunity to fulfill a desire to see what they can do one time in the ring. We work to pair each person that signs up with an opponent who is of similar size, age, weight and skill level, match them up with a local gym and put them through a four-month training program. We then organize a high-end gala event where the participants have their first official sanctioned amateur boxing match in front of approximately 2,000 screaming supporters. Through Haymakers, we have found an unconventional way to link two seemingly unrelated things – boxing and the fight against cancer. My mission with Haymakers is twofold. I want to continue to raise the much-needed funds essential to advancing research, improving treatments, developing earlier diagnoses, and providing help to patients and survivors. Secondly, I want to introduce people; regular, everyday men and women, to the sport of boxing. I owe so much to the sport. In a way, it saved me, as much as chemo and radiation did 4 years before I walked into a boxing gym on the corner of Greenwich and Carlisle Streets in Manhattan. In 14 years, over 1,400 people have stepped through the ropes on fight night in the fight against cancer. We have raised nearly $40 million dollars supporting cancer research, awareness, survivorship and care. In 14 years, Haymakers has hosted over 60 events in 6 cities and for that I am truly proud. Boxing is not easy. It is a true challenge of mind and heart. It takes a tremendous amount of courage to walk up those stairs and step through those ropes. What Haymakers fighters accomplish in 4 shorts months is nothing short of inspiring. Having a hand raised at the end of a bout doesn't make a champion. What makes a champion is having the guts to step in that ring prepared and the willingness to go to battle for something bigger than you, and literally fighting for a cure. I continue to be inspired everyday by the Haymaker’s fighters I meet during their months of training and the stories they share of who they are fighting to honor. One thing I’ve learned on my crooked little journey through life; Always help when you can. There will always be someone out there who has it worse than you do and sometimes, a little help goes a long way. If you are curious about signing up and being part of this group of brave, passionate, slightly crazy humans please visit haymakersforhope.org/fighters/index details to learn more about what it takes to be a participant. It was my absolute honor to share my story. Thank you so much for reading. -Julie Kelly, H4H Co-Founder
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Wednesday May 29, 2024
Are you ready to step into the ring and make a real impact? Haymakers for Hope's Belles of the Brawl offers an incredible opportunity for women to lace up their gloves, throw some punches, and fight for a cause that hits close to home. This unique charity boxing event not only supports cancer research, patient care, awareness and survivorship but also provides participants with a chance to experience personal growth, form lasting connections, and achieve peak physical fitness. If you're looking for a challenge that's as rewarding as it is demanding, here are five knockout reasons why signing up for Belles of the Brawl could be one of the best decisions you ever make. 1. Knockout CancerBy participating in Belles of the Brawl, you directly support cancer research and care. The funds raised from these boxing events go to various cancer-related charities, making a significant impact in the fight against cancer. 2. Fight for Your FutureTraining for a boxing match is a rigorous and transformative process. It demands physical and mental strength, resilience, and dedication. Participants often experience immense personal growth, gaining confidence, discipline, and a sense of accomplishment. 3. Join a Knockout CrewJoining Belles of the Brawl means becoming part of a supportive community of women who are all working towards the same goal. The camaraderie among participants fosters lasting friendships and a strong support network. 4. Get Fit, Hit HardBoxing training provides a full-body workout, improving cardiovascular health, strength, endurance, and agility. Participants often report significant improvements in their physical fitness, weight management, and overall well-being. 5. Unforgettable MemoriesCompeting in a boxing match is a unique and exhilarating experience that few people undertake. It offers a chance to step out of your comfort zone, face new challenges, and create lasting memories. The event itself is a celebration of hard work, dedication, and the collective effort to make a difference. Apply now for your chance to become a Belle of the Brawl!
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Wednesday Apr 24, 2024
In a world often marred by adversity, it’s heartening to witness individuals stepping into the ring not just to battle opponents, but to take a swing at something far bigger and more formidable: cancer. On Wednesday, April 24th, at The Fillmore Philadelphia, the stage is set for the 2nd Annual Liberty Bell Brawl, hosted by Haymakers for Hope. This event is not merely about boxing; it’s a poignant display of resilience, compassion, and a collective determination to knock out cancer. For each of the 24 fighters, this event holds a deeply personal significance. Cancer, with its pervasive reach, has touched their lives in profound ways. As they lace up their gloves and step under the bright lights of the ring, they carry with them the memories, struggles, and triumphs of their loved ones who have faced this relentless foe. Luke Gambale, a fighter who himself battled Stage IIIB cancer, shares his journey of resilience and hope, emphasizing the importance of raising awareness and funds to support others in their fight against the disease. He reflects, “Cancer unfortunately touches so many people and their loved ones and has become a big part of my life over the last few years. Closing in on year 2 of 'No Evidence of Disease,' I can think of no better way to celebrate while raising money and awareness about cancer than stepping into the ring.” Ethan Wergelis-Isaacson, driven by a lifelong commitment to healthcare impact, sees Haymakers for Hope as the next step in his journey to eradicate cancer. He states, “Haymakers for Hope is giving me the opportunity to step into the ring and fight for the eradication of this disease. We've all been impacted in our personal lives and communities by cancer, so I hope you join [us] in our collective fight to knock out cancer once and for all.” For George Balatsinos, the memory of his father’s battle with Mesothelioma fuels his resolve to step into the ring and honor his legacy. His poignant tribute underscores the deeply personal nature of this fight against cancer. Donald Lyons, fighting in memory of his father and niece, shares the heartbreaking stories that have shaped his decision to participate in this event. He says, “I will be fighting in honor of my father, James Wilson (1936 -2002) and niece, Simone Lyons (1993-1995) and everyone who has battled with or lost a loved one to cancer.” Joey Davanzo draws strength from his wife’s courageous battle with cancer, highlighting the profound impact of witnessing a loved one confront adversity with grace and determination. He explains, “Today, I am overjoyed to share that my wife is cancer-free. This experience has become my driving force, propelling me to participate in this event.” Tyler Gilger’s decision to step into the ring is driven by a desire to celebrate the victories of his family members against cancer. His message of resilience and determination echoes the sentiment of hope that unites all the fighters in their mission. David Zhao’s rallying cry for hope, healing, and unity encapsulates the collective spirit of the fighters as they prepare to take on this formidable opponent. He declares, “After intense months of training, fundraising, and more punches than I’ve ever dreamed of taking, I’m ready to prove that when we band together, we can deliver a knockout blow to cancer.” Joyce Adelugba invites others to join her in making a difference, emphasizing the importance of collective action in the fight against cancer. Her call to support fundraising efforts underscores the vital role of community in driving change. Bianca Solari fights not only for those affected by cancer but also in honor of her grandmother, embodying the legacy of strength and resilience passed down through generations. Yuryssa Lewis draws inspiration from her aunt’s victorious battle with cancer, emphasizing the importance of perseverance and determination in overcoming adversity. Her commitment to supporting cancer research reflects a deep-seated belief in the power of hope. Lydia Ali’s passionate advocacy for the fight against cancer is rooted in personal losses and a dedication to honoring the memory of loved ones. Her resolve to give cancer a knockout blow speaks to the indomitable spirit of resilience. Kate Skarvinko’s lifelong dedication to helping others finds new purpose in the fight against cancer. Her commitment to supporting loved ones in their time of need underscores the enduring power of compassion and solidarity. Liz Ring’s poignant tribute to her father and all those lost to cancer echoes the collective sentiment of grief and determination shared by fighters and supporters alike. Her resolve to knock out cancer for good serves as a powerful reminder of the stakes at hand. As the fighters of Haymakers for Hope step into the ring at the Liberty Bell Brawl, they do so not only as athletes but as champions of hope, resilience, and solidarity. Their stories remind us that in the face of adversity, it is our shared humanity and collective action that have the power to effect change. Together, let us join them in their mission to knock out cancer once and for all.
Read more ›Help Haymakers for Hope reach more people in more places - and raise money for the fight that really counts.